“Why did they tattoo our name on your skin? Did they think you might forget you’re a Vitiello?”
I shrugged, smiling. That’s what I loved about Valerio. He always managed to surprise me with the way he was thinking. “They weren’t the brightest candles on the cake. I suppose they needed to remind themselves.”
Valerio nodded. “Yeah. Amo said they were stupid motherfuckers.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Make sure not to use that word when you’re around Mom.”
Valerio flashed me a grin. “I know.” Then the smile died away as his eyes moved lower. My gaze followed his in the mirror to the word that always made me cringe. “I like the tattoo.”
“It’s not done yet.”
Valerio rubbed his knuckles, still looking at my back. His knuckles were swollen. “What happened there?”
Valerio loved speed and action, so he was often bruised but only his knuckles was odd.
“I got into a fight with Mimo.”
Mimo was one of Valerio’s closest friends. “Why?” I asked but I had a sinking feeling this had something to do with me.
Valerio gave a shrug. I cocked an eyebrow expectantly.
“He said something about you.”
“What did he say?”
“He wanted to know if it’s true what people are saying.”
“Don’t let me pull everything out of your nose, Valerio. Just spit it out.”
“If the bikers tattooed that word on your back,” he mumbled, nodding at the tattoo. “And he asked how your ear looks…”
I swallowed. A small part of me had hoped that word wouldn’t get out, but even if Dad had told his men to shut their mouths, something like that always found a way out. They just needed to talk to their wives, who were all gossips. I hated how this made me feel, as if I had done something wrong, as if I had reason to be ashamed.
“I beat him up. His nose was bloody and his lip busted. I made him swear to never talk about it again,” Valerio said proudly. He touched my shoulder. “I’m going to beat up everyone who talks about you.”
I gave him a grateful smile. Valerio was easygoing, reminding me more of Uncle Matteo than Dad. Though Mom always said that Valerio was like her brother Fabiano when he was a boy. I only saw Fabiano once or twice per year and he definitely wasn’t easygoing or approachable anymore. That Valerio was getting into fights for me meant a lot. “Thanks. You’re the best littlest brother ever.”
Valerio scrunched up his nose. “I’m not that little. I’m taller than all my friends.”
I tousled his hair. “Of course.”
I put the cardigan on, tired of staring at the tattoo. Valerio hovered beside me. I could tell that there was more he wanted.
“What is it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Can I see your ear?”
I froze, gingerly touching the diamond earpiece covering my missing earlobe right now. Valerio had an expression of childish curiosity that gave me the strength to open the ear clip. Valerio’s mouth forced an O when he saw my ear. The cut had begun to heal and once I started the laser treatment it would hopefully be even better, but right now it still wasn’t a nice sight.
“So cool!” Valerio said, moving closer so he could take a good look at it. I resisted the urge to cover it up.
“Why is that cool?” I asked, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor in my voice.
“My friends and I all compare our scars. They are battle wounds.”
“You think this is a battle wound?”
“Definitely. It’s like a medal for bravery. It shows you won a battle.”
I pursed my lips. “I don’t feel like I won,” I admitted. I wanted to slap myself. I shouldn’t unload my emotional bullshit on my little brother. He should worry about bike races and schoolwork, not my messed-up problems.
“Of course you did,” Valerio said aghast. “They are dead. And we Vitiellos showed them who’s boss.”
I nodded, but still felt emotional. I wasn’t sure why a tiny piece of ear and a soon-to-be-covered insult were taking such a toll on me. The men in my family had survived worse. Even Mom had already survived a bullet wound. I needed to be strong.
“Don’t you have homework to do?” I asked.
Valerio was clever enough to take the cue and left. The moment I was alone, a heavy feeling settled in my chest.
I felt alone in a sense I couldn’t explain. A loneliness only one person could disperse.
I picked up the phone but hesitated. I didn’t want to appear needy or weak. I had drawn certain boundaries for our relationship and I didn’t want to tear them down yet, but I needed someone who knew what had really gone down.
I wish you were here, I typed and sent the text off. Right afterward, I wished I could take it back.
I stared at my face in the mirror. I’d put on makeup for the tattoo appointment today, the first time since Earl’s death. Makeup always made me feel more like myself.